


Ixio - a genesis

by Damceon



Series: Character Backstories [3]
Category: Gamer Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23255455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damceon/pseuds/Damceon
Series: Character Backstories [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672036





	Ixio - a genesis

The scent of incense was heavy in the air, the small yurt's walls close and cozy around the solitary figure within. The barest of necessities were here... a small fire pit in the center, a sleeping mat opposite the entrance, and the scroll.  


Ixio's long fingers caressed the scroll's leathery surface reverently, cherishing the contact and thrilling at the sensation. Ever since he began down the path of the Inner Eye, he had relished his communion as though each time were the first time. Long ago, his body had given up food and water... even sleep, though sometimes his communion left him weary and he rested on the simple fur-covered straw mat. The rich perfume of the smoldering leaves and sticks was pleasing... cleansing... driving away the freezing winds that howled outside.

Outside the yurt of the Seer, a blizzard raged on the mountain tops. The winds screaming with savage delight and shrieking furiously at the small hut that dared to defy their fury. The cold drove frost deep into the ground and caked the surface of the mountains in a thick layer of ice, refusing to lose its wintry hold until well into the spring.

But inside the yurt it was warm and quiet, the winter's wrath held at bay by the might of the wards that Ixio had made when the Inner Eye had given him that knowledge. Here, there was peace and serenity where Ixio could embrace the visions of the Inner Eye without interruption. Here, the only nourishment he needed was the Great Truth of the Inner Eye. The world outside could wait... his body could wait... for a century and more, if the Inner Eye so commanded.

So long ago, his feet managed their first trembling steps on the path of the Inner Eye... his mind awakened to the deception of his former life. A sad smile spread on Ixio's lips as he reflected on his life, his face angled sightlessly at the curling tendrils of smoke that rose from the fire pit. So blind he had been, when he had eyes to be deceived.

...

Ixio strode arrogantly through the streets of Agrazax, capital city of Sirrukshis the Usurper. Carrying a missive from his mistress, the Priestess Kyshass, Ixio made his way to the merchant quarter to deliver the execution order. She had told him as she sealed the scroll, her slitted pupils gazing at his naked body, that she was issuing the order against the human merchant and she wanted him, Ixio, to see to the complete adherence to her edict. The merchant, Thom Grissold, was not of consequence.

"What matters," the priestess's voice carried promise of further passions explored at his return, "is that this human merchant is in the auspices of Her Ladyship Issalah... and Her Eminence, the High Priestess Vashyssra would very much like to humiliate the Queen Mother's wayward daughter before the court for such foolish favor as to allow a human equal right to trade within Agrazax's walls."

The words poured over him, the hidden meanings tumbling through his mind as he concentrated on the one fact that mattered most to him. She wanted Ixio to perform this favor. His priestess... broodmother of his house, was asking for his favor. She could easily have chosen any number of his house... even one of the high-born Kin, Sons of Sirrukshis... but she had trusted Ixio with this task.

Added to this privilege was the unparalleled mating she offered on his return, guaranteeing his place among the revered ancestors as brood father of his house.

He tensed, his keen senses detecting a dangerous change in his environment. The streets were not as busy as they should be, outside Grissold's shop front. A two-centurion patrol was visible some distance along the road... the blue-tinted ilk of another house. Ixio adjusted his breastplate and examined his armor one last time before he continued. The brilliant green steel glittered like serpent scales in the mid-morning light, the leather joints well-oiled and supple. At his waist, the curved sword used by all males of his kind... the fangs of Sirrukshis. He was ready.

"Go swiftly." Kyshass had whispered, her smile hungry and impatient. "Return so, and I will make you revered."

But he would never return. She had lied. He was her sacrifice to Issalah. The missive had been Kyshass' account of Ixio's betrayal of Issalah's confidence and attested to Ixio's threat to the demesne. The brood-guard, elite soldiers of the Queen Mother's house, were waiting inside Grissold's shop, along with Issalah and a magister to witness the delivery of Kyshass' letter.

Ixio did not understand why Kyshass had betrayed him or why his house would forsake him. He stood, swallowing the frozen bile in his throat as Issalah ordered him to hand the missive to the magister. When the magister broke the seal, Ixio could already guess what the arcane letters had truly said. The brood-guard watched him disinterestedly, only a passing curiosity as their attention turned to their mistress and watching for any potential threat to her royal person.

He could not hope to overwhelm them, even by surprise. His body grew hot... flushed from the shame of being so casually thrown away, but his kind did not sweat as humans sweat. The serpent-folk, as humans called them, were akin to snakes in many ways. Now, Ixio allowed himself a bitter smile, the vipers were coiling and uncoiling... measuring each other and looking for their next avenue of attack. Kyshass and Issalah were not rivals... while the Queen Mother lived.

_The filthy humans are right to fear our venom and treachery._ Ixio's smile faded, for he was the newest victim of his own people.

The magister read the letter aloud, wherein Kyshass denounced Ixio as a traitor and conspirator in league with human spies seeking to overthrow the Revered Queen Mother. Ixio scarcely listened, his eyes losing focus as he tried to mentally prepare himself for torture and death. Yes, they would certainly torture him.

"It is all in order, Ladyship." The magister bowed his head, handing the scroll to Issalah. The female, lithe and beautiful, eyed the scroll briefly before casting her hateful stare at Ixio.

"I'm sure it is, Essik." She handed the scroll back to the magister and waved him away. "Bind him... drag him through the street and make an example of the traitor. I want both their heads on pikes before sundown."

Her command shook Ixio from his thoughts. Without ever saying as much, she had absolved him of guilt... though she still offered an inglorious death and humiliation in the city he'd dutifully served his entire adult life.

"Thank you." Ixio managed to choke out, his throat dry now.

Issalah's eyes met his... he could not understand what he saw in those eyes... then, her gaze shifted slightly over his shoulder. Ixio heard the guard approaching. The brood-guard? No, Her Ladyship would never allow her personal guard to disgrace themselves by leaving her defenseless. It had to be soldiers... which meant Issalah did not care for their lives, necessarily.

Her eyes had warned him, whether intended or not, and Ixio was well-trained. A soldier of the second rank, Ixio knew the sword and ways of killing as any veteran. He turned, but his movement was many movements as one. His sword bit deep into the Sylaksi centurion's belly as his body moved aside and a second, smaller blade sped from his other hand and carved across a second centurion's neck.

The shop front door was empty, but for the two dying centurions.

"Stop him." Issalah's voice was distant, though from his highly trained mindlessness or her own lack of interest, Ixio could not be certain.

As the disemboweled centurion clutched futilely at his innards, his comrade groped for his weapon and bleeding throat, his hands confused as to which matter needed tending first. Ixio sped out of the shop, unconsciously loosening the straps on his leggings.

In seconds, Ixio's leg plates spun free and clattered to the paving stones as he sprinted toward an alley. Moments later, he stopped only long enough to cut the breastplate loose and cast it aside. His mind was lost, his body doing what it had been ordered to do so many times. Conditioned to escape with haste and stealth from any enemy, Ixio was shedding his house colors as a snake would molt its skin. Reckless, he charged from quarter to quarter and found himself surrounded by livestock.

_Sweet merciless Mother!_ Ixio reeled from the stench. _Cattle!_

Shocked into awareness, he took a moment to look around him. He was nearly naked, wearing only his loincloth, and was quickly regretting letting his reflexes control him for so long. The filth and itching press of rough hides into his skin made him nauseous. Fighting down the revulsion, Ixio silently cursed himself for casting away his weapon so quickly... but the sword of his house would easily place him as an errant... then traitor.

There was nothing to be done about it. Survival mattered more, now. He was dressed as a slave and, unless he was very careful, he would soon become a slave when he was found without a collar or house branding.

...

Escaping the smothering walls of Agrazax was no small feat... Ixio was trapped in the city for several days, stealing scraps of food from livestock in the human quarter and hiding deep in the gagging filth of the pens during the day. Skulking through the tenements at night and pilfering rags to clothe himself more like a human. He was too thin to be a middle-class human... perhaps a slave...

_No._ Ixio shook with an inner chill. _Those disgusting wretches are more foul to their slaves than we are to ours._

He decided to stow away on a caravan scheduled for departure. His body ached from fatigue and hunger, his mind cried for sleep... but his danger was too great. He wrapped his limbs as he had seen many of the diseased humans do, though more to hide his scaled skin than cover the hideous rashes and mottling that had formed during his fitful sleep near the cattle pens.

As a last preparation, Ixio dipped his hands into a puddle of urine and manure and began wiping the noxious mixture on his face and neck. The stink was horrific and he gagged, spitting bile out onto his hands as his senses revolted at what he was doing. His body was wracked with spasms as he violently heaved, but his stomach was already empty. Choking back another volley of retching, Ixio managed to wipe some of the bile and vomit on his clothes.

When the guards stopped the caravan and searched it, Ixio waited, shivering more from his own disgust than fear. How humans could endure the squalor and disease he perceived them in was beyond his imagining. He considered many times seeking a swift, violent death by the sword rather than this wasting sickness that plagued him now. His body was weak, but even so, he was ready to attack if need be.

A guard leapt easily into the back of the covered wagon where Ixio hid. Ixio tried to sink deeper into the rolled clothes and sacks of grain, hoping the guard would not look too closely. He knew it was useless.

_Let it be quick._

The soldier, a fifth rank of house Ezsiliss barked an order at him in the coarse, guttural tongue of the humans. Fear surged through Ixio. His ruse would not work if the guard learned who he was... and he did not understand the human speech. The guard shouted again, his arm gesturing crisply that Ixio was to come forward. Ixio obliged, suddenly feeling very sick and weak, hoping his death would be clean.

The guard recoiled at the stench, extending a booted foot to ward Ixio away suddenly. Ixio felt the blow and collapsed, though it did not hurt terribly. He gagged, spitting bile onto the slats of the cart. The soldier covered his mouth with his hand and backed away, stifling his own gagging.

"By the Mother!" the guard shouted in their native tongue. "This is the foulest, most diseased human I've ever seen! Get this miserable excrement out of the city at once!"

"They all smell the same." Another guard approached the back of the wagon and looked over the lip and into the shadows, trying to peer past his comrade at the twisted figure huddled at his feet. "Probably their thrice-damned queen-mother, the filthy pigs."

Ixio, heartened by their talk and revulsion, reached out pleadingly with his hand and brushed his fingers over the soldier's boot.

"Leave off, swine!" The guard hissed, not bothering in the human speech as his foot arced savagely forward and caught Ixio in the ribs. The cracking of bone settled the matter as Ixio choked back more bile and fought to breathe, daring no words and letting out only strangled whimpers and whines like one of the human's dogs he'd heard before.

The guard left the wagon, furious about the soil on his boot and the horrid stink in his nostrils.

"Get your wagons out of here!" He screamed, then Ixio guessed he repeated the order in the human language, because the wagons slowly moved forward.

...

That night, well away from Agrazax, the caravan stopped for the night. Ixio knew he had to escape... somehow. He had slept, haunted by nightmares of capture and torture... now at human hands, then suddenly at the hands of his own people.

"Well, best see about our guest." Wryglan hollered, his face dark but for the smile on his lips. "We should thank him for hastening us through the gate, we're half a day ahead already."

"Aye, I'll see to 't." Brak stood on the driving bench of the rear wagon and flung the canopy flap aside to enter the wagon proper. Ixio froze, fighting the urge to murder the human for surprising him... he was too hungry to be of use to himself in a fight... there would be too many humans. If he had feared death at the gates that morning, he feared it more now that he was surrounded by stinking human swine.

"Tuok, see to the oxen." Wryglan nodded.

"Aye, Master." Tuok set to tending the beasts tied to the wagons.

For a long moment, Ixio stared fearfully into the eyes of the first human he'd met that wasn't immediately dying on the end of a spear or with his body hewn down by the chopping swords of the Ssessik. The human, for Ixio did not understand their language to know the man's name was Brak, looked at Ixio, his nose sniffing at the air in the wagon and finding the stench not to his liking. He was not so tall as Ixio had feared at first, with straight black hair that fell in a tangled mess to his shoulders, a long narrow face and dark eyes.

"Well, you're a surprise." Brak tried to smile, relaxing to sit down on one of the grain sacks. "You speak Rethi?"

The Seshik, as human's knew them, continued to stare in that near-hypnotic way that made Brak think they were all secretly drugged... right until they opened your stomach with one of their curved daggers.

"You... speak... Rethi?" Brak said again, a little louder and much slower, his hands gesturing at his mouth and at Ixio.

"Lessi..." Ixio slid the word around on his tongue, his voice low. Shaking his head, he pointed at himself with a rag-wrapped hand, careful not to move too much for the pain in his chest. "Ixio."

"Oh, no..." Brak barked a laugh and his hands splayed to wave-off the misunderstanding. "No, I'm not Rethi... well, I suppose I am... but that's not my name."

Ixio watched the human's mouth, not certain of his posture but aware that his tone was nearly universal to Ssessik... the human was amused.

"Lessi?" Ixio tried the word a little louder this time, seeing if the human reacted to the name it had given.

"No." Brak shook his head slowly, then pointed to himself. "Brak."

"mrak..." Ixio fought the strange sound out of his mouth. Humans had such clumsy-sounding words and names! He fought down the urge to cough, but could not stop himself from shivering with the effort. His broken ribs offered complaint and red spots burst in his vision.

"B... B-Br-ak." Brak said slower. Ixio watched his mouth, made the movements many times before putting voice behind them.

"mm...B..rak."

"There it is!" Brak clapped, Ixio recoiling from the sudden movement. Brak sobered.

"Wait here." Brak gestured slowly and kept his voice low, then indicated he was going to leave and return. "Wait here... I come back."

...

Ixio didn't want to wait. Humans couldn't be trusted. He had no weapon... he was sick... surely dying... and he was so covered in excrement he thought he would never be clean again. But he waited. He had committed to fleeing Agrazax... these humans were leaving... they had provisions... it was safer than trying to survive alone, for now. Even though they did not know each others' language. His condition gave him little other choice.

"Ixio?" The sound of his own name, unbidden, tripping slightly on thick human lips, snapped his head around to the back of the wagon... Three humans stared in at him; Brak, a heavy-set human with thick muscled limbs and a massive red-blonde beard, and a taller, leaner human with platinum blonde hair and a light beard. It was the tall blonde human that had spoken, Ixio realized. Next to Brak, this human seemed much older... but the shorter, heavier man looked older still. Humans were not as long-lived as the Ssessik, but they wore their years heavily on their bodies, Ixio decided.  
  
Ixio squinted, a shaft of sunlight stabbing through a small hole in the canvas of the wagon's cover. The tall human said his name again, his eyes full of questions and uncertainty.

"Yes. I am Ixio, brood-son of Lyaslazikkis of House Vashyssra, soldier of the second rank of my House, I am not a traitor." Ixio blurted, his mind reeling. Issalah's last words to him had confirmed this in his mind. He was not a traitor.

_Is exile worse than death?_

"Too much word. Word slow." The fair-haired man smiled, trying to look comforting, despite his childish use of the Ssessik tongue. "You Ixio. You _not_ traitor?"

The other two humans exchanged a few words, abruptly cut short by the tall human whose face contorted to a stern mask as he obviously reprimanded them.

"Not traitor." Ixio replied simply.

"You run?"

"What house are you from, human? If you must interrogate me, tell me your name and lineage!" Ixio hissed, his body still hurt and his stomach gnawed with hunger. He didn't want to get into a long discussion about how and why, right now.

"Again?"

"What house you?" Ixio didn't like using these stumbling phrases and his throat was very dry. The human smiled, jerked a thumb at his chest.

"Wryglan, no house. Human small, no house." The tall man, Wryglan laughed and seemed to explain what they'd said to his fellows. Ixio heard movement outside the canopy and realized he'd been trapped... surrounded. The humans weren't being clever, but he'd been sloppy. Now he was at their mercy.

"Peace." Ixio raised his hands and splayed his wrapped fingers. Wryglan's smiled died on his lips and his eyes narrowed. He barked an order to one side and the sounds of movement stopped.

"Why run?" Wryglan's face darkened, flushed with an ill temper. Ixio considered the caravan's interests carefully, knowing they could well turn around and drag him back to Agrazax or worse... enslave him right there.

"Exile."

"Again?"

"Agrazax make leave. No return. Never. Dead." Ixio stated firmly, his body growing cold in the failing light. The statement sounded much more final, now that he'd put it in words.

"Free?" Wryglan's eyes roamed over Ixio's disgusting rags.

"Yes." Ixio's voice cut through the twilight, threatening Wryglan for even suggesting otherwise. "Soldier."

Wryglan's eyes widened in surprise, then he smiled.

"Come, eat... Clean, eat." Wryglan motioned for Ixio to clean before he ate.

...

The cold water felt good on his skin... painful across the loose scales where his rashes were worst. He had never bathed like a human, before... though he suspected their caravan did not provide typical amenities found in human cities. For now, he resolved to enjoy the cold bath, oddly delighted by the chill and lethargy caused by the cascading water. His body's aches and itching fell away in the numbing caress and he gratefully took the soap that was offered. It was a foul-smelling lump of white, but it scoured away the stink of the cattle and refuse he'd been forced to live in for what was now a dream-like lifetime ago.

He laughed, drunk with the idea of scrubbing away the urine and feces that haunted his senses, plunging himself head-long into the bathing trough and furiously working the soap against his many sores.

"Better get Wryglan over 'ere, a’ fore 'e drowns 'isself." Tuok shook his head and turned, whistling loudly to get Wryglan's attention. "Master! 'E's tryin' to drown 'isself!"

"Well pull him from the bath, by the gods!" Wryglan leapt from his place atop one of the wagons and jogged over. "The cold might smother him before he chokes."

...

"Ixio?" The voice was far away... a male? It carried the worry of a friend, but Ixio struggled to remember the voice. It wasn't very familiar. Everything felt so thick. He was warm, close-in to himself. He was wrapped in blankets or bindings. A fire was crackling nearby. It was warm here... like mid-day in summer. The heat was fogging his mind. No... he had been cold.

Slowly, he pieced his thoughts together, working backward and then forward. He must've lost consciousness when he fell into the bath. He knew the dangers of the cold to his kind. The Ssessik did not fare well with extremes in temperature. Humans, he remembered, had learned to adapt in ways his kind had never bothered... or were never able.  
  
Taking stock of his surroundings, Ixio examined the fire and gazed out from the swaddling blankets he was cocooned in. The heat was pleasantly heavy, making concentration difficult. He wanted to simply bask in the heat and dream. There were humans around the fire... Many humans... and their leader, Wryglan, was calmly approaching from near the fire with a steaming bowl.

"Ixio awake?" Wryglan asked, positioning himself next to Ixio so that he did not block the firelight. Ixio licked his dry lips with a leathery tongue.

"Awake." Ixio hissed.

"Eat." Wryglan held the bowl near Ixio's face so he could see it, the human's hand lifting the spoon from the bowl with some of the gruel toward Ixio's mouth. "Talk later."

The gruel smelled of cow flesh and human herbs, as well as some other scents that Ixio couldn't place but was sure he should recognize. The taste was fatty and laden with salt, but alive with heady spices he'd never tasted before. The heat burned slightly on his tongue, but he gulped without complaint. The searing warmth washed through his body as each mouthful of gruel hit his belly. The hazy colors of the world softened even more, making Wryglan blurry before his eyes.

Ixio heard Wryglan speaking... slowly... haltingly... but he heard himself answer as though he were not in control of himself. He couldn't quite hear what was being said... but the heat pushed his worries away. Wryglan kept feeding him, and the warmth stayed. It was pleasant... enveloping... he soon lost interest in the conversation and concentrated only on the wondrous warmth that swelled within his belly and seemed to swarm in all around him.

…

The following morning began with a strange, cool blurring of light and sound. Ixio could not clearly say when he first woke, but that the sun was well above the horizon by the time he’d regained his senses. The wagons were moving. As the northern road sloped east to cup a hill, Ixio counted six wagons in the caravan… nearly fifty men and women horsed riding as either drivers for the livestock or guards for the goods being hauled in the many crates, casks, and chests. The scent was not nearly so terrible as Ixio remembered. It may have been the close confines of the city that kept the stink so strong, or perhaps Ixio’s own escape covered in such excrement and urine that tempered his sense of smell. Riding the cool autumn breeze was a semi-sweet aroma of grassland. The plains surrounding Agrazax were the Plains of Selissis, though Ixio was sure they had another name in other tongues. He tried to push the memories away, struggling to keep himself aware and invested in the world around him. It would not serve to be lost in reverie among strangers.

He was riding next to the human Brak, who was smiling to himself with his eyes closed and face turned toward the sun. The angle of the sun put Ixio of a mind that it was late morning, though still a few leagues shy of midday. When Brak glanced over at him, the smooth lines of his face seemed to tighten into focus as Ixio’s eyes caught the movement.

_Slender for a human._ Ixio’s jaw clenched in thought, his eyes studying the man from top to toe.

Brak’s clothes were simple linen, dun-colored and stained from travel, buried beneath his heavy leather coat and hardened leather greaves. It was motley apparel, in Ixio’s eyes, as was most human finery. Then again, he’d never met human royalty. Perhaps the common-folk were content in plain cotton and worked hides instead of fine silks and precious metals and stones. Ixio struggled again to suppress his memories, preferring to live only in these moments… this new life.

Long fingers closed around something hidden at Brak’s side and lifted. Ixio’s suspicious eyes were rewarded by the site of a clay jug in Brak’s hand as it moved toward him.

“Drink.” Brak said, motioning with the jug. Ixio took it, looking in through the mouth of the earthen pot and sniffing at its contents.

“Ain’t poison…” Brak chuckled, shaking his head. “Drink.”

Ixio stared at Brak, his hands cradling the jug cautiously and keeping it balanced above his knees. Cocking his head to one side, Ixio’s brow knitted in question.

“Drink.” Brak tilted his head back, one hand cupped around an unseen tankard and his throat swallowing imagined mead.

“…drink…” Ixio looked down, tasting the word before he raised the jug to his lips and sampled the liquid within.

The sting of alcohol was mild, the flavor underneath was thick and earthy with a hint of smoke. Ixio did not care for its taste but forced himself to quaff many mouthfuls before resting the jug in his lap.

“Good.” Brak smiled, nodding once.

“Good?” Ixio echoed the word, making the noise many times to be sure he had it right. “Good… good , good, good…”

They spent the remainder of the morning in relative silence. When the caravan stopped at midday to rest, Ixio shifted uneasily on the bench seat of the wagon. Several of the humans formed small groups to keep watch on the perimeter, half a dozen set about rationing chunks of bread and cheese, fruit and dried meat out to the whole of the caravan. Ixio was handed a large wooden bowl where his portion had been piled. The woman who shoved it into his hands was as road-worn as any human Ixio had ever seen. She had the look of one well past middle years, though still strong and healthy and keen of eye, her face was lined with wrinkles, the line of her mouth hard as she met Ixio’s stare without a trace of fear.

“Eat.” Her voice was as stern as her face. A weathered hand lifted to those tightly pursed lips as she made a curt motion, dipping her fingers toward her mouth as it opened. “Eat.”

_Do they think I do not know what to do with food?_ Ixio did not hide his confusion before the obvious answer flared to life. They were taking fast steps to teach him.

“Eat.” Ixio nodded, bowing his head politely as he offered thanks in his mother tongue.

They used too many words too quickly for him to remember much, but he repeated each word as best he could. There would be time enough for remembering along the road. The night brought the whole caravan to the central fire for warmth and safety. Ixio watched and listened in earnest, struggling to match words and meaning.  
  
Wryglan made an effort to sit and eat with Ixio after the bulk of the evening meal was over. The Ssessik kept a close eye on the blonde human’s bearded mouth as he spoke, studying the way his lips moved thickly through the fluid words of the serpent people.

“Ixio, healthy?”

“Yes.” Ixio nodded, struggling with the human word. Wryglan sat back wide-eyed before smiling broadly and leaning back in conspiratorially.

“Know fast, human words, Ixio.” Wryglan chuckled. The lean human seemed very pleased. Ixio had no ready response in the human tongue that would serve, so he used his native language.

“Soldier.” He did not think Wryglan would fully comprehend his meaning beyond the simplest of titles.

Wryglan was pensive, nodding sagely as he stroked the fine hair of his beard. Ixio drank more of the mild alcohol to wash down the last bit of hard-bread from his meal.

“Why healthy?” Ixio asked after swallowing another mouthful of his drink.

“Tuok make Ixio healthy.” Wryglan pointed out the stocky, bald human with the long reddish beard. “Tuok much magic.”

_It will be better to learn your tongue quickly._ Ixio frowned. He did not like being uninformed of his new traveling companions, though they had done him no obvious harm that he knew.

“Tuok… make Ixio sleep?” Ixio’s eyes narrowed with deliberate suspicion toward Wryglan. He felt much better than he had the day before… better than he had felt since before his last tryst with Kyshass. If he needed to, he’d seen where many of the humans were vulnerable.

_With surprise, I could kill many of them._ But Wryglan seemed to be reading Ixio’s thoughts from his question. The human raised his hands, placating.

“Healthy, only. Make healthy, Ixio.” Wryglan was trying to draw Ixio’s attention back on himself. “Wryglan feed Ixio. Food, fire… Ixio sleep. Wryglan pleased, healthy Ixio.”

Wryglan’s warm smile faltered at the Seshik’s withering glower. He could see the toned muscles of the serpent-man’s neck tensing in readiness. He’d seen soldiers of the Seshik fight raiders and he knew their brutality and speed. If Ixio chose to kill him…

“Wryglan!” Edda shouted, walking in from the darkness at the edge of the firelight.

“Here!” Wryglan answered and stood, careful to turn so his back was not fully to Ixio.

…

Ixio watched the humans talk. The woman, he had not caught her name, was very angry about something… and Wryglan looked upset as well, though perhaps more cautious with how his emotions showed. Many times, they looked over at Ixio where he sat not two paces from them. The woman seemed on the verge of blind fury at everything she and Wryglan said. Ixio stood, an urgent need waking within him that had remained hidden since his flight from Agrazax almost two days ago. Perhaps it had manifested while he was asleep and they had cleaned him, but now he could feel the pressure in his bowels screaming for release.

“Ry-lan.” Ixio said hastily, standing and motioning with his hands. “Eat much. Drink much. Where clean?”

For a moment, Wryglan seemed confused, taken unawares from one conversation to the next. The woman listened to Ixio’s hissing words and snorted in disgust. Her left hand resting purposefully on the hilt of a short sword on her hip. After chewing over Ixio’s request a laborious moment, Wryglan’s eyes lit with understanding.

“Ah!” Wryglan pointed away from the fire. “There… Follow… there.”

And Wryglan led Ixio to the caravan’s latrine. Ixio knew the hole when he saw it… he was no stranger to life in the field. When on the march, soldiers often dug latrines in absence of soil buckets or magical disposal. A magical soil bucket was a rare thing, reserved for the highest royalty and priestesses. Ixio’s nose crinkled at the familiar stink of human waste.

_Perhaps that is why their quarter is so foul._ Ixio pondered as he squatted. _They are not allowed easy access to and from Agrazax to dispose of their filth, so it festers within the walls._

Wryglan was standing nearby, still exchanging words with the furious woman who’d followed them. The utter lack of privacy seemed unimportant to them… Ixio’s own urgency overwhelmed his sense of proper manners. Later, he might have time to consider it.

When he’d finished, Ixio followed Wryglan back to the camp… the two humans still trading words, though the woman seemed much less agitated.

“See to your husband, Edda.” Wryglan said at long last. Edda gave a grunt and nod, turning away from Wryglan to tend her own affairs. Wryglan watched her back a moment before looking at Ixio again.

“Ixio healthy?” Wryglan gave a toothy smile. Ixio found the question amusing, though he was not certain why Wryglan had felt the need to ask.

“Yes.” Ixio said again in the Rethi language, his smile not nearly as deliberate as his host’s.

“Follow…” Wryglan waved and began walking toward one of the wagons.

The human gave a short, shrill whistle and a staccato of orders to one of the men in the wagon who responded with a frowning stare at Ixio. When the man did not promptly move, Wryglan’s face reddened angrily.

“ _Now._ ” Wryglan’s voice was a dangerous growl, his upper lip curled back in a wolf-like snarl.

Ixio did not know why Wryglan endured the insolence of his servants, or why he treated with them like a pack of jackals. It seemed grossly inefficient. Ixio would simply have spoken the order and, had his servant not reacted quickly enough, he would have slaughtered the man for his insubordination before reissuing the order to his next servant. Servants of his house learned lessons quickly or were killed… brood-sons of his house learned quicker still, lest they find the unforgiving ire of the brood mother or a battlefield descending on them.

_That was another life._ He reminded himself. Wryglan’s men wrestled an ironbound chest to the rear of the wagon where Wryglan climbed onto the slats and produced an ugly black iron key from inside his leather vest. Unlocking the chest, Wryglan motioned for Ixio to join him by the chest as his men opened it. Ixio nimbly sprang up into the wagon as if taking a single step.

The sudden movement startled the humans that were watching. Those in the wagon took reflexive steps backward, one man tripping over a crate to tumble heavily over the rail and onto the ground with a meaty crunch. Wryglan was the first to compose himself and shouted more orders too quick for Ixio to distinguish one word from the next. Obviously, Wryglan was shaming his servants for their cowardice.

“Tuok, make sure that damn fool didn’t break his neck!” Wryglan bellowed. “Smyth, get down there and stay the hells out of the Seshik’s way. The rest of you, be about your business!”

Now, only Ixio and Wryglan stood in the back of the wagon. Ixio looked down into the chest, newly curious about what Wryglan had brought him to see.


End file.
